Will You Ever Love Yourself?
by HumBee
Summary: Just a Drift/Wing drabble that turned out longer than I expected. I didn't write it to be good in terms of style and technique. Just wrote it for sheer emotion and imagery. For best results, read this fic while listening to Hammock's "Will You Ever Love Yourself?" Yeah yeah, that's where I'm taking the title for this from, haha. /so original


The longer he stayed in the city, the more he realized how much that none of it was his. No part of him belonged here, in the vast white and shimmering gold, with flecks of red speckling the sky as mechs flew in their jet alts. Among them was the one thing he'd ever wanted to lay claim to during his stay here, the one person who seemed, even if only a little, actually understood. Or at least tried to. He'd been a hard shell to pry under. And it was likely that Wing would never know what he truly thought of the place, of the other mechs inhabiting Crystal City, of Wing himself.

The sky was dipping into twilight, painted a multitude of warm colours that dazzled and glowed with the resident sun's last stretch. And within the orange and yellow clouds, he almost lost sight of the only mech he ever watched. But there, a twist that picked up a contrail and arced through the sky in a beautiful curve. Wing.

Perhaps only in these moments did he ever envy flight. In these moments where he could trick himself into overcoming his personal boundaries and yearn to be in the other's arms as they burst through cloud cover and dizzied themselves with acrobatics. Sometimes he longed for the capability to join Wing in the clear sky on his own. But then Wing would flutter right back to the balcony where Drift had been watching him the entire time and give the usually stoic and cold mech such a warm smile that Drift could never steel himself in preparation for, and always felt himself burning to the core from.

Not to let Drift down, it happened again right then, and even though Drift expected it, knew it was coming, told himself to get ready for it, he was no match, and hardly put up a fight against his spaulders sagging, a small returning smile crossing his own mouth. Taking advantage of the obviously good mood, Wing dipped in, still leaning on the balcony rail on his knees and keeping a balancing hold on it with his hands, and pressed a kiss to Drift's lips, giving Drift a little shiver down his spinal struts. Wing's face and armor were still warm to the touch, both from his systems still cooling from the flight as well as from soaking up the sun. His wing panels twitched softly, then settled into their places as he tipped his forehelm to lean against Drift's, the smile returning. "Hey."

Drift swore he could hardly vent if he tried. He managed, just barely, to keep his gaze locked onto Wing's golden optics, muttering a little hello back, trying not to panic internally at the intimate gesture of their forehelms pressing together. But thankfully Wing didn't stay long there, and hopped down to stand normally with the other, leaning against the railing then. There was an easygoing melody to his voice when he spoke again, a carefree quality that Drift often was between hating and being jealous of. "You look like a noble, standing here every day when I'm out for my last flight of the day. The light always catches you and makes you look dazzling."

"Mmn.. hardly. I think you look much more attractive out there." Drift was close to biting onto his lip, cursing himself for being more easily flustered than normal.

Wing merely grinned, then slid a hand up Drift's forearm, his look suggestive but more intimate than sexual. It made Drift reel, like vertigo, and he slowly pulled back, withdrawing back into his shell, ignoring the fall in Wing's expression. "I uh.. you should refuel and do your nightly routine. I remember you have a lot of meetings tomorrow."

Normally, Wing would submit to the obvious rejection, but he'd been in a good mood all day and these same meetings had kept him from seeing much of Drift for a week. He wasn't about to back down easily this time. His optic ridges furrowed, and he stepped forward, gently grabbing a hold of Drift's hand, trying to look more persuasive than angry or pleading. "I can be late to a meeting or two. I want to have some time with _you_. Please?"

Drift tensed, hesitant, then looked up at the other, and seeing disappointment in the usually smiling face, gave in a little. "Your meetings are more important than me. You need to rest well and go to them on time. How about we refuel together and then you can head to bed?" It wasn't much of an offer, but hopefully it was something to tide Wing over.

The smile didn't come back though. Wing merely frowned, but instead of pouting and giving up, he tugged Drift close and held him firm to his frame, making the other mech jolt in surprise. "W-Wing—"

"Can't you let me enjoy your company? Because I _do_ enjoy it. I enjoy _you_. I _like _you."

For a moment, Drift had no words except the blaring in the back of his mind saying this was wrong, he wasn't a mech from this city and there was no way or reason to become intimate with this sort. Slummers, Decepticons. They didn't become lovers. They didn't become passionate and doting and all around pleasing. Didn't matter that he'd cast aside his faction brand. He couldn't become the mech Wing wanted, much less the one he needed. Wing was too pristine and untouched, no matter how promiscuous he'd been before Drift. He wriggled in Wing's grasp, only to have his chassis squeezed tighter, keeping him pressed firmly to Wing.

"You have to let yourself give in some time… well, maybe not _have to_.. but I want you to. So badly." Wing's voice was trying to stay calm, but there was a lilt in his last sentence that sent Drift quivering lightly again.

"Wing, I'm not… I'm not meant to give in to you, to this."

"Will you ever learn to forgive yourself?!" There, once more, that tone that killed Drift inside, made him even more desperate to be able to just let go, the one thing he couldn't bring himself to do, no matter how long he trained, no matter how deep into meditation he worked himself. He just couldn't. But the eagerness in Wing made him want it until it burned.

When he didn't answer, the jet softened his grip, then looked at the recently remade mech before him, his expression concerned. "Drift.. you're better than you think. You have more value than you believe. You deserve more than you take. When—"

A pause. Drift assumed the look on his face startled Wing, and he quickly turned his helm away, only to have it caught in Wing's hands and pulled back to look up at him. Wing sighed, not in exasperation or annoyance. Something closer to weariness.

"Will you ever love yourself, Drift?"

Drift knew his answer without needing to think about it. It was unlikely, impossible even. He could much more easily forgive himself than find reason to be proud of himself enough to love any part of his personality or accomplishments. It was still a wonder to him why Wing seemed so attracted. But on the reverse, here was a mech who had saved him and had been trying for so long now to rebirth him into a new society and into being a new mech. Wing had never given up on him, which considering how very unappreciative he'd been acting all this time, was a miracle in and of itself. Perhaps it was high time to show Wing gratitude at least for trying so hard. Even if he couldn't give himself completely, he could at least try to trick himself once again into thinking this was alright.

Leaning back into Wing's grasp, he bumped their forehelms together again, downcasting his gaze so he wouldn't have to see the surprised look on Wing's face.

"I doubt it. But… if it's alright, I think I can love you instead."


End file.
